The Boyfriend Chronicles: Unspoken

The Boyfriend Chronicles: Unspoken

There is one missing. There will always be one missing.

I don’t think I’ve ever told the truth about him. I don’t want to, but neither do I want to lie. He deserves to be cast in a better light than either option would shed on him. He loved me. He confided in me. He protected me, cared for me, championed me and tried to hold me up when I got tired of standing on my own. Every significant emotional encounter since then, I suspect, has been in some way an attempt to recreate his unique love for me. My eventual failure should have been obvious long before my windmill-tilting led me here, exhausted and spent.

I can’t articulate what existed between us and perhaps that’s why I’ve never let go. The collection of moments he inhabited feels sacred, reserved only for the hushed confines of silent contemplation, but their overt nature was far more likely sacrilegious. The lines between the extremes I deal in were so blurry by the end that I could no longer tell one side from the other. If I saw him again, I wouldn’t know whether to be happy or sad. He would understand that.

There are no questions left unanswered which is, in a sad way, a relief. I don’t wonder ‘why?’ or ‘how could you?’ or even ‘if only’, because his involuntary and unbroken silence explains everything.

God, I miss him.

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